


A Green Isle In The Sea, Love

by Voiid_Vagabond (Saturn_the_Almighty)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotions, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s01e25 This Side of Paradise, F/M, Fix-It, I am constantly filled with thoughts about this episode holy shit, Love Confessions, M/M, Omicron Flower Spores, Spock's Difficult Relationship With Emotions, of sorts, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Voiid_Vagabond
Summary: Thou wast that all to me, love,For which my soul did pine—A green isle in the sea, love,A fountain and a shrine,All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,And all the flowers were mine.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Leila Kalomi/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	A Green Isle In The Sea, Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title, summary and end quote from [To One In Paradise by E.A. Poe](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50462/to-one-in-paradise)

**The feeling of belonging is all-encompassing.**

**Certainly something not easily forgotten, not easily let go. Once one has it, one never wishes to let go.**

Spock had never felt like he _belonged._ Not on Vulcan, not on Earth. The closest he had ever come was on the Enterprise, but even that had never really earned the title of home for him.

He sat in the grass on Omicron Ceti III, Leila Kalomi’s hands carding through his hair. He felt at peace, a quiet serenity swirling through the now calm waters of his mind. The ghost of a smile passed over his lips as the grey-lined white clouds shuttled across the sky.

Somewhere, a small corner of his mind covered in red, iron-rich sands, he knew it wasn’t a natural serenity. That it was all fabricated by alien flora. The truth was there, out of reach and not out of sight for him, but he chose to let it be. After all, how many chances in life could he possibly have to exist like this? In a peaceful state, comfortable and without wants or needs? _Happy,_ he might even go so far as to say.

All those emotions once strangers to him, mere passing acquaintances at best, now embraced him as he embraced them... as _one._ He felt a great connection to the human facets of his being, a fragrant and poetic tie not unlike the spores themselves.

And Leila. A scientist, brilliant —and a woman, beautiful— once a passing acquaintance too and now a lover. It was odd, to allow such close contact, so many touches, even more so to kiss like Humans did, like Vulcans did. It was all so foreign to him. Now, however, it all felt right. _Perfect._ The spores made sure of that. He didn’t want to give them up. He neither needed nor wanted, at peace with himself. Himself. S _elf._ **_Selfish—_ **

“Spock. Mr. Spock.” Leila poked him gently on the cheek and he cracked his eyes open, letting whatever thoughts flow away. Behind his eyes he saw _red sands shifting, swallowed up by deep blue waters._

“Yes?” Spock answered, sitting up from her lap and smoothing down his bangs. She gazed back at him with that peaceful expression. He’d never seen her wear it back on Earth, six years ago, but he found it quite suited her now.

“Your Captain has beamed down. He’s asking around for you.” Leila frowned slightly, the only change to her smooth, serene face. She almost seemed upset.

Spock only nodded, aware of Jim’s personality and his usual courses of action. Although Spock had no intention of alerting his captain to his location, considering what happened the last time.

“Do not let him know where we are,” Spock said. He would have been surprised at himself, maybe in another circumstance, but as it stood that was the most logical course of action. _Red sands formed a beach._ When he had been with Kirk and Leila both, he had experienced a mild discomfort surrounding their presence. He hadn’t liked it, neither had the spores, but it was tied to them both. In what way, Spock had neither the time nor the want to explore it.

He had Leila now, Leila had him. What else mattered?

_Happiness. Belonging._

* * *

“Dr. McCoy. Which do you find more aesthetically pleasing, blue eyes or brown?”

Bones couldn’t tell if he’d been asked a more out-of-character question by Spock in all their years together. It didn’t matter all that much, he chalked it up to the perfect, blissful sense of peace he was feeling now, as they all were. Bones was sitting under a tree mixing himself a drink and Spock was pacing around in front of him, a familiar action if not for the slowness of his movements.

“I ain’t rightly sure, Spock, I never did give it much thought,” Bones answered him, holding his glass up to the sunlight and watching the light filter through and catch the colors.

“I did know this lovely boy back at the Academy, had the brightest blue eyes I ever did see. Like starin’ right into a tropical ocean.” Spock stopped pacing.

“That is fairly accurate, Doctor," he admitted, thinking back to the way Leila would gaze at him, the light fuzzy around her face.

"Then again," Bones drawled, and Spock started pacing again on instinct, _"Jimmy's_ always had gorgeous eyes. Like bourbon."

"I do not believe Jim has taken a liking to that nickname, doctor, it would be prudent to stop using it." Spock may have been completely at peace, but that was no excuse not to correct those who were being rude.

"Aww, no matter, Spock, he loved it back at the Academy." Bones stood up and patted Spock on the arm.

"Ya still gotta work on loosenin' up there," he said before leaving Spock alone in the clearing.

Spock wanted to turn after him and correct his analogy, to say that Jim’s eyes were more suited to be compared to a fine stained hardwood, or a dark amber in certain lighting conditions, or an impure but ancient Citrine, a rough Jasper or the rolling high hills of Earth, rich soil that nurtures floral life…

Compared to a tropical ocean, a summer sky, cracked and frigid ice formations…

* * *

“Don’t go in there, Spock, it won’t be good for either of you,” Leila tried to convince him as Spock stood at the back door of the little house that Jim was in, waiting for him. Leila’s hand gripped his own, a little uncomfortably, and Spock twisted it away, holding them both behind his back and lifted his chin.

“I wish to explain to him the situation. I am certain it will help him come to a decision.”

Leila stared at him, her expression unreadable. “A decision about what?”

Spock shrugged slightly. “A great number of things, all of which I do not have the time to list.”

Leila looked like she wanted to reach out again and grab his hand but she didn't. That familiar Paradise smile flitted across her cheeks.

"Alright," she conceded. "And Spock?"

Spock's hand paused over the doorknob, waiting.

"Remember that _I love you."_

* * *

Jim was sitting at the little round table in the kitchen when Spock found him. He was drumming his fingers on the tabletop, the other hand curled around a small teacup.

He had set up a pot of tea and another cup opposite, stream rising gently in coils from it.

Spock sat down, laced his fingers together and rested them on the table.

"Spock," Jim said by way of greeting.

"Jim," Spock said by way of reply.

He was smiling, a soft little thing that seemed never to leave nowadays. He didn't resent it.

"You're smiling." Jim was staring openly at him, searching his face like it was the last time he'd ever see it. "I've only ever seen you smile like that at me."

"I have much to be," Spock let out a content little sigh, something that he often did in the fields with Leila, _"happy_ about, Jim."

Jim's voice sounded strained. "I'm glad." Like he was forcing it out between his teeth. He picked up his teacup and sipped at his tea. Spock could smell something like berries, a fruity mix.

"I wish to speak with you," Spock started, realizing that Jim wasn't going to be as active in the conversation as he usually was. "About staying."

"You know I can't," Jim snapped. "Not when my ship's up there." He raised his eyes skyward. _Like bourbon._

Spock nodded evenly. “Indeed. It is admirable, if self-destructive,” he pointed out. It was his captain’s way. “However, I must try to sway you.”

Jim frowned, an expression nearly alien to him now, what with all the smiling and serene faces around him. “If you’re going to try and sell the spores to me, you’re in the wrong place.” He set down his teacup on the provided saucer, spinning it around by the handle. Idle movements.

“There is no monetary requirement, Jim, but you will find the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.” Spock unlaced his hands. He reached for his own teacup, the warmth spreading across his hands.

“I’m sure I won’t,” Jim mumbled. He wouldn’t look at Spock now, finding all manner of things around the room to stare at instead. Spock wanted to see those ancient Citrine eyes.

He nodded. This was not unexpected. “I had thought as much. But Leila helped me see the positives.” He took a breath, prepared to recount all that he had experienced with her when Jim snorted, unbecoming of a man of his position.

He finally turned back to Spock, not frowning this time. But he didn’t look content. Spock couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about his expression made him uncomfortable in the way that was opposite of happiness. _Red sand, full of iron and history, shifting… shifting, always. The waves can’t keep it down._

“Leila. _Hah._ You have to know that can’t last,” Jim said, leaning forward in his chair.

“And why not? We are happy. She is happy.”

“She wants you to love her like a human does. That’s what she needs, Spock. But you’re not human. These spores, they make it like you are. You’ve been acting far more human than I’ve ever seen before. But it’s not your truth.”

Spock stared back, about to refute, to ask how Jim could possibly assume to know _his truth._ And yet… he was not wrong. _The sands soak up the ocean, red and coarse underfoot, it's always meant to be this way, a balance between—_

Spock tilted his head just so, a silent urge for Jim to continue.

“You can’t love her like she needs. I know all too well. And you shouldn’t have to suppress an entire part of your being to give her that. Spock, you’ve spent far too much of your life moulding yourself to what others want you to be. What you think you _need_ to be. Doesn’t it hurt?”

He asked it with passion, a clenching of his hands into tight-wound fists. He stood up out of his seat and leaned over the table. The teapot hissed steam out of the spout and into his face.

“It hurts _me.”_ Jim blinked, eyes searching Spock’s face for anything other than the otherworldly serenity. He sat back down with reluctance. “All I’ve ever wanted for you, Spock, is to be able to be _you…_ the beautiful, unique life that you are. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, you are unlike anyone in the entire universe. To hide that, to hold it back and pretend for days, for years…

“I— I care for you too much to watch that happen.” His eyes shined with emotion, something much more familiar to Spock now.

“I have people who care for me here,” he said.

Jim nodded slowly. “I know… I know.”

“I feel happy here, Jim.” Spock said it like he was simply listing scientific fact. In a way, he was.

“You do?” _There_ it was. That’s what it was, that unexplainable emotion. _Resignation._ Jim looked tired as he said it, barely lifting his eyes from the tabletop.

“I feel like I _belong._ For the only time in my existence.” _It felt like scooping up a handful of the soaked-wet sand and offering it to the sky, to the sunlight._

“Really?” Jim didn’t mean to sound so desperate but his days had quickly become monopolized by it. "I'm sorry." Jim stood up, smoothing down the velveteen front of his gold uniform as he did.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't do that for you. I'm sorry you never felt at home on the Enterprise." Spock watched him round the table and kneel by his chair, gazing up with those hazel eyes, amber in the sunset light filtered through the curtains.

"But we can try. Spock, I promise all I've ever wanted is for you to feel like you belong. And I'm so sorry we weren't able to." His hands shook as he raised them to the arm of Spock’s chair, his hold whiteknuckle as he continued.

"We can try. We'll do better. _I'll do better._ I'll give you whatever you need, whatever you want. I just can't… " His voice caught, a uniquely emotional response.

Spock shook his head minutely. "Jim, I no longer have wants or needs. It is illogical to offer that which is not requested."

"But I know you. At least, I thought I did. And I know that there are still things that you want." Jim looked at him with his expression drawn, anticipation and a kind of expectation in it.

"Spock. Please… I can't lose you. I can't lose everything that you are. My life would be so empty. I feel… I _know_ I wouldn't feel at home on the Enterprise if you weren't there." Jim moved his hand from the chair to Spock’s arm and somehow it felt like it was _made_ to touch him, like his fingers settled perfectly on his muscles. He didn’t want to move, for fear that Jim would pull away.

He never felt this way with Leila.

"I need you. I want you. Spock, tell me what it is, anything in the universe and I'll do it for you. To the best of my abilities. Just don't leave me."

_Just don’t leave me._ He never felt this way with Leila.

“Stay.” Spock felt his lips move, didn’t hear what they said until Jim was whispering it back in shock.

“The Enterprise cannot be operated by one man alone. It will be a metaphorical prison to you.” Spock looked down at Jim, kneeling beside him and holding him like a lifeline. The man did not _deserve_ a prison, not in any shape.

“No,” Jim shook his head. “I need to find a way to bring you all back.”

Spock turned, hovering his hand over Jim’s on instinct before pulling away. “It is your choice, Jim, but I feel I may miss you. The recent years of my life have heavily featured your presence and to remove that will be jarring.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

_The sands swallowed him, but the ocean choked the air from his lungs._

* * *

Jim couldn’t stay on the ship for another second. He thought maybe getting away from the constant mindless smiles and crowded colony of over four-hundred people would be good for him, but it just made everything worse, magnifying his thoughts in the empty bridge. And this time he couldn’t run from them.

He had expected it to hurt, seeing Spock with someone who made him smile so unabashedly. Someone who made him feel like it was okay to touch and feel and live in such a human way. Jim had hoped it might be him, but hoping only ever got people so far.

No, it didn't _hurt_ so much as pull a constant, dragging ache out of him. It drained him and hammered at his head but it didn't hurt like a phaser blast or a punch to the jaw.

Jim's fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair as he stared at the viewscreen and gazed out at the surface of Omicron Ceti III. He felt like everything had crumbled too quickly, like it shouldn’t have been so easy to get the entire crew to desert.

Especially not Spock.

Jim had expected Spock to be by his side for as long as he could see. The man had a will equal to his own in strength, possibly stronger.

He hadn’t expected the thing to pull Spock away from him, away from even _his own nature_ would be a woman. More accurately, a bunch of alien flower spores, but those alone didn’t do it.

It scared him.

Because what did that mean? What did it mean if these spores could break even _Spock,_ how would the rest of his crew fare, how would _he_ fare? Would he be able to resist?

Would he want to?

Paradise sounded good. Never needing, never wanting… since all he wanted he couldn't have.

It was cold that night as Jim tried to sleep. He curled up in his captain's chair, eyes closed tightly and didn't get a moment's silence.

* * *

Paradise sounded good, but he wasn't allowed to have it.

Spock didn't answer the ship-to-surface comms. Jim beamed down and asked what members of his bridge crew he could find. None had seen Spock. Uhura pulled herself away from Chapel long enough to tell him that he and Leila would probably be at their little hillside spot by now.

Jim frowned to himself and trudged off in that direction.

He _needed_ to get his crew back and he _needed_ Spock to help him do that.

The hill was desperately empty. A gentle breeze blew past, rustling the taller grasses but no one else was to be seen. Jim placed his hands around his mouth and shouted off into the trees.

"Spock!"

No answer. Not even an echo.

The treeline was undisturbed by the breeze, strong and unyielding and deep green that seemed to hold back secrets. If anywhere, Spock would be there.

* * *

“We should just get rid of him,” Leila was saying, tying up and letting down her hair repeatedly, a movement that while repetitive served no purpose other than to be a nervous distraction. “He’s not here for Paradise, like the rest of us, he just wants to steal you away from me, which isn't very nice, is it, Spock?”

Spock, upon the prompting, shook his head absently.

“I would perhaps not use the word ‘steal’, as I am not property to be bartered or taken,” he clarified. “Jim is simply giving into his usual instincts, which are to preserve the safety of both his crew and his ship. I assume he has taken this spore development to pose a threat, however real or imagined, to us.”

“Sounds more like _he’s_ the threat, to me,” Leila shot back, and it was the most negative emotion he’s heard out of her in a long time. Spock opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. “I wish he’d just stay up on his starship and not bother us. Doesn’t it bother you? That he’s always trying to find out where you are? To talk… I doubt it, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Spock paused where he was, hand on the rough bark of a tree that stretched up far over their heads. He turned slightly, just enough to peer at Leila out of the corner of his eye.

“Spock, I think he has feelings for you.”

Spock’s ears picked up a faint shout of his name from beyond the treeline and he resisted the urge to turn to it, to go to it.

“If so, what difference does it make? It is _we_ who are together,” he reminded her. “Do you question what we have?”

Leila’s silence was enough of an answer for him.

“It’s just that, you two have known each other for so much longer and I’m afraid that you love him back and that you’ll stop loving me. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Spock? You wouldn’t leave me?”

Spock couldn’t help but feel like those words weren’t right, like they were meant to pierce him like shards of glittering crystal, so beautiful and yet so painful.

* * *

Strong negative emotions.

That was the cure, the escape from Paradise. Anger, Sadness, Jealousy or Spite or Deviousness or any number of others. _A swift kick to the placid red sand. A hand sharply cut through the deep celestine ocean. A scream to the unseeing skies._

Leila’s words clung to him like old blood in soft fabric, browning and cracked and permanent.

_I’m afraid that you love him back._ And so, if Spock did? It would alter the nature of, well, everything. He had stayed for Leila, he had walked into Paradise for her sake alone and now? He was fighting his way back out for Jim’s.

His mind clicked back to their conversation over tea, the words that Jim had said feeling so heartfelt now, so much more like an admission, of bearing the contents of his chest to Spock wholly.

_“She wants you to love her like a human does… You can’t love her like she needs. I know all too well. And you shouldn’t have to suppress an entire part of your being to give her that. Spock, you’ve spent far too much of your life moulding yourself to what others want you to be. What you think you need to be. Doesn’t it hurt?”_

“Yes,” Spock admitted, slowly, quietly, only the trees around him to bear witness. He wasn’t even sure what he was admitting to but it didn’t matter. He sped up, his footsteps thundering on the soft ground as he headed towards the treeline, away from Leila… towards Jim.

_And the sands righted themselves, the ocean receded to that perfect distance. The world inside his head returned to equilibrium. Yes. Yes, it hurts. Yes, I do. I do love him back._

  
Spock tumbled into Jim’s arms, up atop the hill with the starlight shining on them and the breeze wrapping around the two like it was meant to. And _that_ felt closer to home than anything else in the universe.

_Such language holds the solemn sea_

_To the sands upon the shore_

**_It felt like belonging._ **

**Author's Note:**

> My mom read this and she said I'm a very skilled writer :D


End file.
